Dreams Made Flesh bj-5 Page 35

  The fact that she and Beale, the Hall's butler, were happily married was something he tried not to think about because it made him wonder things about Beale he'd rather not wonder.

  "If we both went to Amdarh, we could just write her a note," Jaenelle said.

  He looked at Jaenelle. She looked at him.

  "Good idea," he said.

  That settled, she snuggled against him and slept for the rest of the journey.

  2

  *High Lord?*

  Ladvarian's suppressed excitement made Saetan's nerves twang, but he continued warming a glass of yarbarah as if he had no concerns. "Lord Ladvarian. What brings you to the Keep?"

  *There's something you should know. But it's a secret.*

  Comfortably settled in a window seat, Saetan watched as twilight faded the colors in the small garden beyond the room Draca had given him to use as a study.

  The daughter of his soul and the son of his blood had married yesterday. He'd told Ladvarian he was delighted, and he was. But in the privacy of his own heart, he could acknowledge a nip of hurt that he hadn't been asked to witness that bond. A father's wish to share the important moments in his children's lives.

  And yet, he understood the reason behind this secret wedding. It didn't matter that Jaenelle was no longer the Queen of Ebon Askavi. Her decision to take a husband would create ripples throughout Kaeleer. Even if the guest list was contained to the Blood who had made up the First and Second Circles of the Dark Court, it would take weeks to plan the celebration that would follow the simple ceremony. For two people who wanted, or needed, to make a formal commitment to each other now, waiting in order to plan a party would have been intolerable.

  Especially for Daemon. Because Daemon Sadi's loyalty began and ended with Jaenelle Angelline. The fact that someone was trying to give Jaenelle a reason to break all ties with him indicated the Blood in Dhemlan still didn't realize the kind of man they were dealing with. And that frightened him. The only thing restraining the power and temper of a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince was a woman whose own power was, as yet, undetermined. If the rumors spreading through Amdarh and, by now, through the other courts in Dhemlan, provoked Daemon into striking out indiscriminately, there was no one, including himself, strong enough to stop him.

  The bloodbath could be horrific.

  So it was prudent of Jaenelle to marry Daemon in a way that required little fuss to give him the assurance that he wouldn't lose her.

  Saetan scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. With things balanced so precariously right now and so dependent on Daemon's state of mind, he just wished he had the answer to the question the coven, the boyos, and even Lucivar had been asking over the past few months.

  If the kindred had truly succeeded in holding onto Jaenelle so that she would heal and come back to all of them, why had she come back different?

  Eleven

  Lektra dropped her cup, oblivious of the tea seeping into the white tablecloth as she twisted around to stare at the two women seated at the next table in the dining house.

  "I…I beg your pardon," Lektra stammered. "I didn't mean to overhear your conversation, but… Daemon Sadi is getting married?"

  The woman Lektra recognized as the Priestess in Zhara's First Circle nodded. "Lady Angelhne and Prince Sadi came to Lady Zhara's court this morning and announced they were going to marry in a month."

  "But I… I thought Lady Angelline was an invalid." Lektra gripped the back of her chair so the other women wouldn't see her hands shaking.

  Looking puzzled, the Priestess shook her head. "I don't know where you heard that, but she's not an invalid, although she looks like she's still recovering from her injuries." She paused. "There were some disturbing rumors about Prince Sadi's fidelity, but he was very solicitous with his Lady, doing and saying everything one would expect of an ardent lover."

  "Perhaps doing and saying it too well?" the Priestess's companion asked.

  The Priestess gave her friend a sharp look. "He was concerned for her well-being…as he should be."

  Lektra forced herself to smile and turn away just as a waiter hurried to her table to vanish the soiled tablecloth, replace it with a clean one, and bring her another cup of tea. As much as she wanted to hear about her unfaithful lover's performance while he'd been visiting Zhara's court, it wouldn't do to make anyone wonder about her interest.

  She picked at the meal she'd ordered, no longer taking pleasure in the food, too aware of the women at the other table. Finally, feeling too ill to continue pretending, she paid for her meal and hurried out of the dining house, wanting nothing more than the sanctuary of her own home.

  2

  "What's wrong with that bitch?" Lektra snarled as she paced her sitting room. "Doesn't she have any pride? She must have heard that he's been unfaithful to her. She should have severed whatever ties still hold him to her."

  Roxie, curled in one corner of the sofa, selected another chocolate from the large box on the table. "Have you seen her?" She made a disgusted sound. "Even if he was unfaithful and having sex with six other women every day, she wouldn't let Daemon go if he's still willing to service her. What other man would want her?"

  "But he's going to marry her!" Lektra's hands clenched. "He's supposed to want me. He's supposed to love me." How dare he disappoint her when she was counting on having the strongest, most beautiful man in the Realm as her lover? How could he even think of staying with Jaenelle when she loved him so desperately?

  Roxie frowned. "Maybe we can give him a reason to walk away from her."

  Or maybe it's time to take a more direct approach to the problem. "I'm going out," Lektra said, hurrying toward the door. Her Summer-sky Jewels were strong enough for what she had in mind. And with luck, there would be some tragic news for people to discuss over dinner tonight.

  3

  Wrapping one arm around Jaenelle, Daemon tucked her closer to his right side as the horse-drawn cab headed out of the shopping district.

  Jaenelle said, "We could…"

  "No."

  "But…"

  "Enough."

  She studied him with narrowed eyes. "You've got that bossy I'm-a-Warlord-Prince-so-I'm-right tone in your voice."

  "No, I've got that I'm-a-Warlord-Prince-who-is-your-adoring-loving-husband tone in my voice."

  "Sounds like bossy from where I'm sitting."

  "Must be the acoustics in the cab." He smiled as he kissed her frown-wrinkled forehead. "Sweetheart, you're exhausted. We've paid a courtesy call to Zhara and been seen in several shops today. That's enough. You need to rest." He paused. "Hell's fire, I need to rest."

  She considered that for a moment. "What did you have in mind?"

  Several things, but he'd take them in order. "Tucking into the sitting room for the rest of the afternoon. If you're a good little witch and nibble on some food to make up for what you didn't eat at midday, I'll read to you."

  "That's bribery," Jaenelle grumbled.

  "And your point is?"

  "It's a good bribe."

  Daemon grinned, then looked out the window when the cab stopped. "Streets are crowded today."

  "What else is on your mind?"

  He sighed. Of course she'd noticed his preoccupation at the last two shops they'd visited. Taking her left hand in his, he dropped the sight shield on his wedding ring for a moment. The brief sight of it warmed him, soothed him.

  "Maybe we should let this go," he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

  "Someone tried to ruin your reputation and isolate you socially from the rest of the Blood," Jaenelle pointed out.

  "Someone wanted you to turn away from me. You didn't. Nothing else matters." The cab started forward. "I don't give a damn if the Blood in Amdarh accept me or not."

  "If someone wants you enough to hurt you…"

  The driver cried out. The horse screamed and bolted.

  Daemon had enough time to throw a Black shield around both of them before the horse veere
d sharply. The sound of wood snapping…

  "Air!" Jaenelle shouted.

  … then the cab tipped, crashing on its side before continuing a sickening flip with unnatural speed until it smashed against walls of power.

  The inside of the cab was a dazzle of colors…Green, Rose, Summer-sky, Purple Dusk, Red, Sapphire.

  As the cab came to rest, Daemon blinked to clear his vision. The colors danced around them a moment longer before they faded…and he realized they were floating in the middle of the cab. He had automatically created a tight, defensive shield that would have protected them from invasive harm, but they would have been thrown around the inside of the cab. Jaenelle's bubble shield had provided a better cushion.

  Shattered glass and thrusting spikes of broken wood littered the cab's roof, which was now beneath them.

  He wasn't aware he'd risen to the killing edge, wasn't aware of the freezing rage flooding him until Jaenelle said quietly, "Leash it, Prince. They just want to help."

  He stared at her, working through what she was telling him, what she was demanding from him. He wanted to rip flesh from bone, wanted to crush the minds surrounding the cab. He wanted to wash Amdarh's streets in a river of blood.

  "Daemon," Jaenelle said.

  "For you," he crooned. "Only for you."

  With effort, he chained the desire to strike out with lethal intent as the cab door opened, revealing worried male faces. The air bubble shrank around them. In the space of a heartbeat, he dropped the Black shield around them and reformed tight shields around each of them. Then he shifted until he could crouch among the shattered glass and shards of wood and help the Warlords reaching into the cab to guide Jaenelle, still floating on air, through the door.

  As Daemon emerged from the cab, he noticed how the males had formed a protective circle around Jaenelle, noted the distress and angei in all of their faces.

  "Where's the driver?" he asked too softly.

  "Over there," a Warlord said, pointing to another cluster of males.

  The males near the driver backed away as he approached. He looked down at the man sprawled in the street, testing with a delicate psychic probe.

  Physically dead but not burned out.

  He put a Black shield around the driver and vanished the body, ignoring the startled exclamations of the other men. The Warlords surrounding Jaenelle watched him with fear in their eyes. Jaenelle just watched him.

  Her presence was the tiny spark of warmth in a world that had gone sweetly, deadly cold. So he held on to that spark while he led his Lady to one of the carriages offered for their use…and he held himself in the eye of a storm that he would either dissipate… or unleash on Amdarh.

  Keeping her inner barriers tightly shut to prevent anyone picking up on her frustration and fury, Lektra, along with several other women, stood on a street corner and watched the Warlords ease Jaenelle Angelline from the broken cab. She walked away, knowing she'd be sickened by the sight of Daemon fawning over that pale bitch.

  It should have worked. It should have. Even if Jaenelle wasn't as much of an invalid as she'd thought, being tossed around in a tumbling cab should have injured something. But the bitch didn't even have a scratch.

  Of course, she hadn't seen Daemon emerge from the cab.

  She turned back, barely able to stop herself from running. It hadn't occurred to her that Daemon might get hurt. She'd expected him to shield himself and be safe. But what if he'd shielded Jaenelle instead? What if he was still in the cab with a broken leg or a broken back or…

  She reached the corner in time to glimpse Daemon helping Jaenelle into another carriage. Staggering back a few steps, she braced a hand against the nearest building. He wasn't hurt. Her beautiful love wasn't hurt.

  But he still wasn't free to be her beautiful love, and if she couldn't find some way of preventing him from marrying that used-up bitch, it could be decades before he could be with his real love.

  Maybe Roxie was right. Maybe she'd gone about this from the wrong direction. No woman would give up Daemon Sadi. But since Jaenelle Angelline didn't have any status anymore to attract a strong male, maybe the thing to do was give Daemon a reason to walk away from Jaenelle.

  4

  Feeling the cold rage wash over the town house, Lucivar stepped into the small entrance hall and shivered. A moment later, Surreal rushed down the stairs.

  "Mother Night," she muttered. "We're going to dance with the Sadist, aren't we?"

  "Yeah, it looks like we are." What had provoked Daemon into cold rage? Lucivar looked at Surreal. "Maybe you should get out of here."

  She shook her head. "Two people distracting him are…"

  "Twice as many targets for him to splatter over the walls."

  "He doesn't splatter," she snapped. "He's not that merciful when he's this pissed off."

  She was right. Unfortunately.

  A minute later, they heard a carriage pull up in front of the town house.

  Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, Surreal opened the front door. Her shock hit Lucivar with the force of a fist. He gave himself a moment to acknowledge his stomach-churning fear before he locked it away. He couldn't afford to show even a hint of fear. Not if he had to deal with the Sadist.

  "Hell's fire!" Surreal flung the door wide open and stepped back. "What happened?"

  "A carriage accident," Daemon replied as he carried Jaenelle into the house.

  "Cat!" Lucivar leaped forward, but Daemon's glazed, sleepy eyes stopped him from actually touching Jaenelle.

  "I'm fine," Jaenelle said.

  "I'll settle the Lady upstairs," Daemon snarled. "Then we'll talk. In the meantime, contact Gabrielle and ask her to come as quickly as possible. We need a Healer."

  Lucivar stepped aside to give Daemon a clear path to the stairs. "There are Healers in Amdarh."

  "None that I trust," Daemon replied. He climbed the stairs and disappeared down the hallway that led to the suite he shared with Jaenelle.

  "Oh, shit," Surreal said as she shut the door. "If he considers all the Blood in Amdarh as an enemy, someone is going to die."

  "Let's try not to be among the corpses," Lucivar growled. "You stay here. I'll contact Chaosti." He walked into the sitting room and closed the door. Ebon-gray to Gray, he could make the psychic reach to the Warlord Prince of the Dea al Mon.

  *Chaosti.* He waited a few moments, then called again.

  *Lucivar?*

  *We need Gabrielle here in her capacity as a Healer.*

  Hesitation. *How much do you need her?*

  *What?*

  Another hesitation. *We confirmed yesterday that Gabrielle is pregnant. If she uses more than basic Craft… *

  *She'll miscarry*

  *Everything has a price,* Chaosti whispered.

  Lucivar closed his eyes, understanding the question behind the words. If she was truly needed, Gabrielle would come and use whatever power was required for a healing, knowing it would destroy the baby she carried.

  *No,* Lucivar said. *We'll find some other way*

  *We could come to Amdarh, just to be there,* Chaosti offered.

  *No. Stay away from Amdarh.*

  *There's trouble?*

  He felt the change in Chaosti and recognized a Warlord Prince's predatory nature rising to the fore. *Nothing we can't handle.* Which was true in its own way. No one was safe while Daemon was cold, so why ask a friend to step onto a potential killing field? *Stay home and take care of your Lady… papa.*

  Chaosti's pleasure filled the link between them. Then he asked, *Have you spoken to your brother lately?*

  *He's here in Amdarh.*

  Silence. Then Chaosti said, *Take care of yourself, Lucivar.*

  *I'll try to stay off the killing field.*

  He broke the link and walked out of the sitting room just as Daemon came down the stairs and Surreal opened the front door to admit Zhara and another witch.

  "I heard about the accident," Zhara said. "I brought my Healer to offer what help we can."


  "No," Daemon said too softly.

  *Daemon, Gabrielle is pregnant,* Lucivar said on a spear thread.

  Those glazed eyes stared at him for too long before Daemon focused his attention on the two witches.

  The Healer tried to smile. "Why don't I just have a look at Lady Angelline and…"

  Daemon's snarl filled the small entrance hall.

  "We do have a qualified Healer in residence," Surreal said. "I'll go up and ask Jaenelle if she needs another Healer. You just stand there and… breathe… until I get back." She eased around Daemon and bolted up the stairs.

  Don't do anything to provoke him, Lucivar thought, watching ice coat the windows on either side of the door. The entrance hall was so cold he could see his breath, and Zhara and her Healer were shivering.

  Daemon just stood there, his hands in his trouser pockets, staring at Zhara and the Healer.

  Surreal raced down the stairs. "Jaenelle says she has a few sore muscles. Nothing worse than that. Not even a bruise. She's fine, Daemon. She really is. I'm going to help her into a hot bath to soak a bit while you cool off." She looked around the entrance hall. "Or warm up." She started back up the stairs, then turned."Oh.Jaenelle also said you promised to read to her. She told me to remind you."

  Saying nothing, Daemon walked into the sitting room.

  Surreal dashed up the stairs, leaving Lucivar with Zhara and the Healer.

  Zhara's eyes glittered with anger. "If Prince Sadi thinks the respect the Dhemlan Queens have for his father means he can act any way he…"

  "Shut up and get out," Lucivar snarled, keeping his voice low enough not to carry to the sitting room. "He doesn't trust you, and right now, he'll kill anyone he doesn't trust." Even me.

  "I am Amdarh's Queen, and…"

  "You don't know who you're dealing with. You. Don't. Know. But I'm very much afraid you're going to find out. So get out while you can… and hope you're still among the living when this is done."

  Zhara's light-brown skin turned gray. "What are you talking about?"